


Good For You

by seventeensteps



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Fitting Room 3, Hand Jobs, I still need to write one, M/M, because even though everyone and their grandma have either read it or written it, not-so-experienced Eggsy, slight D/s undertones, the abuse of fitting room 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy’s tying a navy blue pencil stripe tie around his neck in front of three full-length mirrors when Harry says, “Do you know the other use of the Fitting Room 3, Eggsy?”</p>
<p>He finishes the tie, “apart from being a fitting room that leads to a super spy toy room?”</p>
<p>Harry chuckles, “yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good For You

Eggsy’s tying a navy blue pencil stripe tie around his neck in front of three full-length mirrors when Harry says, “Do you know the other use of the Fitting Room 3, Eggsy?”

He finishes the tie, “apart from being a fitting room that leads to a super spy toy room?”

Harry chuckles, “yes.”

“Then no,” he looks at the older man through the mirror. “Should I?”

Harry, who has four ties hanging off his arm, tilts his head a little like he’s contemplating something really hard, and then moves to place all of those ties neatly on the back of a chair. He steps closer. “I guess not.”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at him, trying to guess what’s on the other’s mind. Harry’s face rarely betrays him when he doesn’t want other people to know what he’s thinking. That doesn’t mean he’s a gentleman robot created by Kingsman or anything. He’s just really good at controlling himself, and Eggsy’s seen enough ‘human’ sides of Harry after all. He wonders what’s on Harry’s mind this time, all the while appreciating the sight of himself in a suit Harry’s picked for him (again), and smooths the suit jacket down carefully. Hmm. He’s not a narcissist, really, but he has to say, his body looks good in these bespoke suits Harry loves having him wear.

Harry sees his face and he probably knows what he’s thinking; he smirks, moving even closer, brown eyes gazing at him. Now they are close enough that Eggsy can feel the radiating heat at the back of his neck. “Do you want to know?”

Eggsy wants to guess what it is, but  _fuck_ , Harry’s so, so close that if he takes only a half-step back, they will be touching. Harry’s eyes studies him, and Eggsy can’t help fidgeting a little. “Yeah, of course,” he croaks, his voice unintentionally going lower.  _God_ , he sounded filthy even to his own ears.

A glint of something dangerous flashes in those eyes. Harry watches him with an unfamiliar expression before taking that half step, and said, “then let me show you.”

Eggsy chokes back a gasp.

And two seconds later Harry’s hands are on him, sure and possessive. They slides from his hips, past his stomach, and up to the first button of a royal blue jacket. He feels Harry’s eyes on him, his cheeks aflame; he looks up, and their eyes locks. “Look at me, Eggsy,” he says, his voice so low Eggsy can imagine it grazed through Harry’s throat on the way out.

Eggsy nods shakily, and then all he can do is standing there while letting Harry undo the buttons and take off his suit jacket. Harry drapes the discarded piece on the back of the chair, and come back to deal with Eggsy’s tie next in one elegant, fluid movement, all the while without taking those powerful dark brown eyes off him.

He feels like he’s going to die. It’s as if Eggsy’s stupid heart is trying to pound itself right through his chest. Eggsy silently tells his heart to calm down before it gets him a heart attack. They’ve kissed before, dammit. He will not lose his cool any more than he has already done only because Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt.

Finishing with his buttons, as if sensing the Eggsy’s thought, Harry’s hand slips in and pinches one of his nipples, and  _jesus_ , he definitely didn’t just moan. Ugh. The smug little grin on Harry’s face is so ridiculous he wants to wipe it away. With his mouth. But when Eggsy tries to turn his head, strong fingers come up and catch his neck and jaw.

“Don’t move,” Harry whispers into his ear and kisses the back of it lightly, eyes looking at him for an acknowledgement of the words he’s said.

Swallowing, he nods.

“Good,” that mouth says, moves down to the bare skin at the base of his neck, and bites it.

His whole body jerks, knees nearly give out if not for the support behind him. Harry always makes a point of remembering his newly discovered sensitive spots, almost to the point of obsession with all that sucking and licking and biting which fries Eggsy’s brain cells every time he does them.

Harry sucks at the redden patch of skin, making sure that it’ll stay that way for a long time, and it’s this moment that Harry’s glasses bump into his neck that Eggsy  _really_ notices they are still there on the other man’s nose.  _Shit_.

“Harry,” he calls, and when Harry stops his mouth, Eggsy adds, “If you haven’t noticed, Mister Hart, you’re still wearing  _those_  glasses.”

Harry raises his eyebrow at him. “So?”

“ _So_?” Eggsy pipes, before getting a good look at Harry’s little smirk.  _This old wolf._  “Merlin’s so going to kill you.”

That smirk grows wider. The hand on his neck slowly moves south and settles on his crotch, “it’ll be worth it,” he says, and then squeezes him through his trousers. Eggsy bites his bottom lip. He has to squint his eyes shut from the image in front of him, mentally count one to ten, and opens them again, or else he’s going to come in his suit trousers, and if there’s anything that Eggsy knows right now, it’s that he doesn’t want this to end that quick. Or at all. But that’s impossible, so at least he wishes he can last until he gets Harry’s long fingers on his dick first.

Harry’s mouth goes back to marking his neck and shoulder up in earnest, both hands unbuckling the £400 black leather belt, and pulling his zipper down with graceful ease. Merlin’s really going to kill them. Really. Eggsy’s three hundred percent certain. But, hey, Eggsy admits to himself that this knowledge—that this is being filmed and transmitted to Merlin’s 120-inch screen—makes him a little bit harder and more excited. His mentor’s right hand makes its way inside the trousers and palmed his aching cock through the thin white boxer briefs; Eggsy moans—he’s seriously going to fail his trying-not-to-come-in-my-pants project if Harry keeps teasing him like this—and unintentionally bucks into that hand.

The hand disappears.

“Wait- no,” Eggsy groans. He didn’t mean he wanted it to stop.

Left hand holding his hip in place, Harry chuckles darkly, “manners maketh man, Eggsy,” and then teasingly grinds his hips against Eggsy’s arse. Oh god- did Harry just did  _that_  ? All right. Okay. Eggsy’s not mentally screaming like a schoolgirl at all. Eggsy’s totally okay with Harry Hart being devilishly sexy and hot as the deepest pit of hell while trying to jerk him off. Holy shit. He needs his pants off  _now_.

“Harry,” he whines.

That hand comes back, but it just rests there without moving; its owner’s eyes flashes dark and predatory. “What do you want, Eggsy?” 

He blushes at Harry’s voice, and then, grabbing the other man’s arse, Eggsy deliberately pushes back against that hardness between his cheeks. “Touch me.  _Please_.”

Harry growls, and his hand dives into his briefs and-  _oh my god that touch is pure bliss_. His dick is so hard and Harry’s palm is so warm and so good. Hot fingers encircle Eggsy, thumb spreading slippery precum all over the head before tugging him out of the confinement, and slick it up and down. He moans shamelessly, trying very hard not to thrust into that sweet friction, and even then it’s taking every ounce of willpower in his body not to come right then and there.

His hand moving faster, Harry’s wrist twists skillfully; one thigh shoves between Eggsy’s legs, rubbing him through layers of clothing. Eggsy’s outright panting now, and the sight of himself in the mirror is…he looks so obscene, eyes glazed, flushed lips, and reddish marks all over his neck and shoulders. When he thinks that this was what Harry is seeing, he blushes harder—if that’s even possible. Great. So much for trying to look cool in front of Harry.

Eggsy glances up at the taller man when he senses some teeth on his skin again, and Eggsy knows that he’s only one step from coming. Because, hey, Harry Hart’s trying to eat him alive, with dark brown hair slightly disheveled, making him look scorchingly hot and incredibly filthy.

His legs are shaking. “Harry- I-”

One last tug and a final brush on his slit. “Come, Eggsy.”

Eggsy's world goes white and then he has this odd feeling of being both here and nowhere simultaneously. He wants to say that this is the hardest orgasm he's ever had, but it isn’t like Eggsy can really  _think_  right now. Harry's just turned his brain into a glob of liquid that's threatening to melt right through his ears.

The _best_ , though? Oh, yes. It totally feels like it.

Eggsy glances at them in the mirror and maybe Merlin's shut the screen off since he first saw what Harry was going to do but judging from the state Eggsy's in, if Merlin, for some unfathomable reason, ever sees this, the Wizard's totally going to end them. Slowly.

If Eggsy, however, survives, he'll definitely need a copy of this from Harry. For educational purposes, obviously.

Panting, he vaguely hears Harry whispering something softly into his skin, and after his breathing gradually returns to an acceptable level, he cranes his neck and laps at the first thing he sees. Harry's mouth.

Harry hums contentedly and returns the kiss, deepening it. For all the gentleman talk Harry's told him, there's nothing gentlemanly about his kiss. Harry kisses like he fights. Fierce, deadly, and incredibly hot.

Eggsy turns his body toward Harry and pulls his head back a little to move down and suck a bruise into the skin just under the sharp jaw. He hears a gasp and Harry's hands on his arse (Eggsy can't remember when they got there) squeeze and try to pull him in closer.

Eggsy remembers, and then squeaks. "Harry, your suit-"

"Let me worry about it, dear boy." But the man still picks his handkerchief out of his suit pocket and wipes the come from Eggsy's stomach with scary efficiency, folds the stained cloth, and discards it in the dustbin in the corner. "Care to continue?"

Eggsy answers by pushing Harry back and into the leather armchair, pushes the other man's legs apart, and kneels. He remembers that Harry still hasn't come, and for that, he has an idea. (He's only been on the receiving end of it, but Eggsy believes that there's a first time for everything.)

Eggsy glances up at Harry, and even though he's smiling like he's not effected by any of this, his eyes are dark, and he's totally looking at Eggsy like he wants to eat him alive. That's a good sign.

He turns his focus back to the task at hand, touching Harry's calves, then slides both his hands up along the glorious legs, and stills when they nearly arrive at their target, all the while trying to look as confident as he can. Like he actually knows what he's doing. He admits he probably looks pathetic, with shaking fingers and fumbling hands, and this may not be as good a start as he's imagined, but it's a start nonetheless.

Ears burning, Eggsy reaches for Harry's belt and this is ridiculous because he has to spend exactly two minutes trying to get it off. He hears a chuckle and a hand comes down and touches his face. He looks up again, head tilting into the big hand caressing his cheek, and sees that there in the corner of Harry's mouth is a satisfied little grin.

"Go on," Harry prompts.

Encouraged, Eggsy leans in closer, undoes the button, and with both hands resting on the older man's inner thighs, catches the zipper between his teeth, and maybe he's imagining things, but the hand on his face tightens for a millisecond. Eggsy then continues to pull the metal down slowly, green-blue eyes locked with brown ones, until the outline of the clothed cock is there in front of him—only inches from his lips.

And so Eggsy closes that distance and licks a tentative strip onto the head that's peaking just above the thin navy briefs that leave nearly nothing to Eggsy's wonderful imagination. He starts mouthing from the crown down to the shaft still hidden behind the silk, then moves up again to suck at the head more intently, one hand pulling the fabric down to feel more of Harry in his mouth. Harry murmuring ‘darling’ and ‘good’ and ‘good boy’ above him, upping his confidence, makes him want to do better, take all of him.

“You don’t have to,” Harry cards his long, elegant fingers through Eggsy’s wild blond hair, and rubs a relaxing circle into his scalp, and even though Harry didn’t say it out loud, Eggsy understands him.

“I want to,” he says and licks a bead of precum leaking from the slit and kisses it. Harry chuckles and pulls him up for soft pecks on his lips and nose and cheeks and some efficient tugs on his cock, the contrast of those actions makes more of his blood rush south. After Harry releases him, Eggsy all but slides to the floor. He continues to alternate between trying to take more of Harry and sucking Harry’s cool composure out through his dick. With purpose.

By the time Eggsy—he can’t help it—begins touching himself again, all of Harry is out of the confine of the briefs and nearly half way down Eggsy’s throat. He tries to fight his _very_ existentgag reflex into submission, but after the third try, he’s the one who has to pull out with a choking noise and a drop of tear at the corner of his eye. Dammit. His whole face’s heating up and it’s not because of the amount of indecency he’s done or been done to.

A hand touches his face. A gentle hand. And Eggsy’s not going to make all his efforts go to waste only because he can’t give a proper blowjob. He dives for another-

“Eggsy, my boy,” Harry stops him. “Look at me,” he repeats after a beat when Eggsy’s still looking determinedly ahead instead of at the person calling his name. He has to look up at that and Harry-

Harry looks perfectly like the personification of _sin_ . His soft brown hair all ruffled and eyes so dark there’re only hints of brown around it. His thin lips slicked and neck painting with fainted ruby—actually the shade gets even darker the more it proceeds all the way down to his chest and toned abs. Toned abs. Eggsy’s brain stops functioning. When did Harry undo _all_ —not only one, or two, but _all—_ of his buttons without Eggsy’s notice? Jesus. This man’s dangerous. Eggsy’s fine with dangerous though. Very, very fine. Ecstatic, really.

“I’m having a great time here, darling, and you should, too.” His smile is so brilliant Eggsy feels a stupid urge to shade his eyes. “You don’t have to master it all on the first try. I definitely couldn’t do it. Practice maketh perfect, it’d seem,” Harry says, and Eggsy can’t help but give a small laugh at that.

He nudges Harry deliciously muscled stomach with a soft, contented noise in his throat and tries again; this time with one hand at the base, squeezing up and down a bit before he leans in and takes as much of Harry as he can and _hollows_ his cheeks, eyes looking up through his lashes, tonguing at the slit. Harry groans and _twitches._

A small victory, if you’ll let him.

He keeps doing that, switching with sucking relentlessly at the sensitive head and a trip down his balls, and Eggsy feels some tensions built in the muscles of the other man’s thighs. By this time, Eggsy is so hard again he’s leaking globs of precum onto the expensive carpeted floor and feeling a bit guilty about not caring about any of it. He goes back to wrapping his lips around the crown, tasting the precum in his mouth, and sucking at the underside when Harry moans and a hand tightens in his hair, but not pushing down. “Will you-?”

“Yes, Harry. _Please_.” And that’s all Harry needs, it seems, before he’s coming down Eggsy’s throat. Eggsy tries to suck every drop of it but some still manage to get on his lips and chin. He rests his face on one of the strong thighs and licks Harry softly like an afterthought before he hears a fond sigh and Harry grabs gently at his neck and tugs him up. Eggsy goes with him.

Harry places him in his lap and starts kissing Eggsy like he’s the only oasis in the middle of a desert, tasting himself in Eggsy’s mouth, and Eggsy’s happy showing him how much he loves what Harry’s doing by returning it wholeheartedly. The older man’s hand comes up to his dick and Eggsy suddenly, achingly remembers that he still hasn’t come (again). Now that he’s reminded of that fact, it won’t take long before he comes again into that big, deft hand touching him.

Harry’s sucking what seems to become a prominent hickey into the adjacent skin between his neck and shoulder when his fingers move down to press at the entrance of Eggsy’s hole and Eggsy’s blissfully gone.

When he comes down from it, keening at the lingering pressure Harry’s fingers have made, Harry’s licking at the spot just above his collarbone (and maybe he’s even bitten Eggsy beause he feels a bit of a tingling pain where Harry’s tongue is. That knowledge nearly makes Eggsy’s dick hard again.)

Hundreds of years have passed and Eggsy still feels like he can’t stand on his own. Or maybe it’s just been one minute, but still.

“That is wonderful.” He blurts dumbly. “Can I have your fingers back on me again?” and kisses Harry’s nose. His brain still hasn’t been completely restarted. Don’t blame him. Harry Hart can do that to a person. Damn, Eggsy’s a happy person.

Harry makes a fondly exasperated face. “Have some patience, would you?” he says, and starts wiping at Eggsy with that pale blue silk handkerchief of his. “I, of course, would love to continue,” Harry says to Eggsy’s jaw, “but it looks like,” a peck at the corner of his mouth, “that has to be postponed to another occasion since Merlin seems to need us at HQ twenty-three minutes ago,” and pushes him off his lap. “Now go make yourself presentable with that new suit,” Harry points to the dark gray suit hanging at the other side of the room.

_That’s why there are two suits in this room and wait two suits mean-_

“Did you plan all this?” Eggsy asks with a not-so-subtle hint of admiration in his voice. His mentor is truly wonderful. A genius.

Harry Hart, the smug bastard that he is, just smirks, and with a small nod, walks out of the room with impeccable suit and barely a single hair out of place.

Eggsy loves him.


End file.
